


Do you have, uh... a shorter name?

by beautifullyheeled



Category: Fifth Element (1997), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Space, Chicken Good, Fifth Element Spoilers, Greedy Corporations, Loud DJ's, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mercenaries, Scifi Fashion, Scifi Mysticism, Scifi Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 06:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4211247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullyheeled/pseuds/beautifullyheeled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John woke up, the city smog curling at his window. The damn cat stayed out again. He could hear it in the corridor. All he had left was this little cubby of a flat and that damn cat. The bright blond of his short hair was still stuck up from the night before. Who had time when he needed to earn as much as he could before his points were lost on his license again. Damn, that was going to suck to pay off when it happened.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do you have, uh... a shorter name?

John woke up, the city smog curling at his window. The damn cat stayed out again. He could hear it in the corridor. All he had left was this little cubby of a flat and that damn cat. The bright blond of his short hair was still stuck up from the night before. Who had time when he needed to earn as much as he could before his points were lost on his license again. Damn, that was going to suck to pay off when it happened. 

Little miss prissy silkily wound herself around and between his legs meowing at him as if she hadn’t just eaten before she’d decided to come home. He knew the score. He knew he wasn’t the only one feeding the little white cat. There was a woman, Mary, just down the way that would take the so-not-pitiful thing in on nights he was trawling for fares. Mary, now she was a nice one.  
He didn’t need another complication though. No, he was fine just as he was.

He tapped at the clear glass trap door in the wall, the cigs he was allowed for the week neatly moving along like good soldiers until he could reach in for todays. Sighing, he patted his body the realised he didn’t have any matches on him. Damn. Wait, the fridge. Maybe he’d stashed a box in there. His phone began ringing as John checked a few other boxes that he had laying around with no luck. John rummaged in a drawer next, his medals and cap rustling around under his fingers. 

“Yea, This is John...” He shook a box by his other ear, cracking a grin that he had finally found some matches as he realised it was Blackwood. “Hey sweetie...stop.” The cat nipped at him distracting him momentarily from the voice at the other end of the line.

“Love you too Major, but you haven’t called me that since basic.” His friend’s warm chuckle made John smile. So fucking glad they had made it through... his thoughts were brought back by the deep snicker in his ear. “... so found someone to keep you warm then?”

“It’s the cat, Blackwood.” John chuckled.

“Oh, that’s right. You prefer the pussy that’s furry and purrs now-”

“Hey! At least the cat comes back...” The blond shook his head trying to strike the match in his hand. 

“Don’t pine over the two-timing ex-wife, Major... forget her. There are millions of women out there.”

“I don’t want a million. I’ve had multiple world’s of choice... I just want one.” He sighed as he thought of a warm supple body he could hold. “A perfect one.”

“Doesn’t exist, Doc.” The laugh was once again warm.

“Hey, just found a picture of the two of us...” John gazed at the picture of the two of them in uniform ready to raze hell if necessary. “From the day. God fucking Commandos-”

“Yea, and who was the one who base jumped out of a shuttle?”

“Who was the one who followed me?” The exchange was simple. True. He fucking missed this; the honest trade of words without all the bullshit of pandering. He turned in the small space and flicked on the kettle heater that was inset into the wall listening to Blackwood as he reminded him about needing to come in to overhaul the taxi he currently was using to make ends meet. Fuck the pension in his accounts. They could keep their money. “I don’t need one, she’s running right as rain, I promise.”

“Are you suddenly forgetting who sat next to you for over a thousand missions. I know how you drive, Major.”

“Blackwood! It’s a cab, not an off-world tactical vehicle! I’m careful-”

“How many points you got left on your lisc-”

“Plenty! At least fifty!”

“I’m calling bullshit, Doc. Kiss your pussy. I’ll see you tonight after hours and get it all fixed up.”

Blackwood laughed his goodbye and rang off. John shook his head at his friend. Fuck, the man knew him so well. It wouldn’t be too bad after all; catch up, have a few beers, maybe some poker with those stupid ‘racy’ cards they had coveted in the darker hours together. Sweetie was still meowing at him so he tapped another button and the small feeder opened from a space along the floor. She began eating, purring at him inbetween bites. 

“You’re welcome.” He sipped at the coffee wincing. God he needed to switch back to tea. This grind was utter shit. Bitter. This payday he’d do it. As he finished his coffee, he switched on the wall mounted telly to keep the cat company. “Don’t watch all day, yea? It’ll rot that pretty little head of yours.” He scratched between her ears then moved to leave, opening the door, a quiet sush of mechanical levers opening the portal to the hall beyond.

“The CASSSSSHH MAN GIMMIE THE CASH!” 

The mugger in front of him was wearing a still of the hall on his head and was brandishing quite a large gun. Why does this shit happen to him? All of the crazy, none of the fun anymore it seemed. Twitchy flicked a random finger. Good thing the damn gun had it’s safety engaged.

“Been here long?” John just leaned against the portal and crossed his ankles.

“Don’t you fuck with me or I’ll blow you into tomorrow man!”

The mugger’s eyes twitched as if he’d had a bit too much of the synth ‘happiness’ upper; his whole body was full of minute movements actually now that John turned a keen eye onto the man. He sighed internally and watched the 

“Isn't that a Z140? Alleviated titanium... neuro charged assault model?” John chuckled to himself. “You know, you _could_ really hurt someone with this thing, good thing it’s not loaded.” He pointed at the little bright yellow button that just screamed _look at me_. Idiots. “That button there... just... press it.”

“Thanks-s-s.” His mugger said quietly, the word spoken through his tightly clenched teeth, as the man properly shouldered the thing again.

“You’re welcome, but-” The ex-commando grabbed the rifle, lightning quick, out of the mugger’s hands. “You know these things are illegal and you could get into a _shit ton_ of trouble for this thing... I’ll just keep it safe-” John pressed a button as he spoke, a hidden compartment above his head comes down to the left of him. The compartment is filled with all sorts of shapes and sizes of weaponized metal. The smirk that crosses his face had gone from friendly to deadly. “Right here, see, safe and sound. Now I’d get your ass down the hall before you get into real trouble.”

The mugger looks at him dumbfounded. Sighing to himself, John clocks him out cold for someone else to clean up. Why him? He kept wandering down the hall to the express to take him to the garage for his level. Seemed like trouble was always dogging his steps. With a grimace, John took a deep breath, found his cab, and got settled in it.  
The sultry computer voice greeted him, telling him fuel levels, the temperature outside, rate and flow of traffic. As the seals begin to hiss and whine, the safely door opened to a view of the megalopolis that London has become. John wistfully thinks of pictures from his great-great-grandmother and how things used to be. Certainly not this writhing insane bustle. Maybe he needed a vacation.

~

“The compositional elements of his DNA chain are the same as ours, there are simply more of them tightly packed. His knowledge is probably limitless...” The scientist looked on in awe of the DNA chains as they scrolled across his screen. He looked as if he were a man that had been dying in the desert that had just been given water. “The cell that is still viable is, for lack of a better word, perfect.”

“Well Mister-Perfect had better be polite, Anderson, or else he’s cat food-” Lestrade groused.

Thousands of cells formed in the heart of the generator, an assemblage of DNA elements. The cellular bath begins to move, beginning an imprint of a very human looking body. A very tall one at that. As the bones re-construct, the scientist was in awe as to how perfectly balanced they seemed; then the nervous and muscular systems were overlayed by the threaders. The very male body reconstructed quickly right before their eyes. 

“Ultra-violet protection in three seconds. Two. One.” The scientist looks over to Lestrade and explains. “This is the crucial phase. The reconstruction of pigment. Cells are bombarded with slightly greasy solar atoms which forces the body cells to react, to protect themselves. That means growing skin. Clever, eh?”

“Uh, yea, neat.” Lestrade made a face and watched the tube become covered by a metallic shield. “When’s it going to open?”

“Soon- end of reconstruction,” Anderson toggled a few things at the console. “Beginning reanimation.” A whoosh of air came through the chamber they were all cloistered in as the latent buzz of electricity picked up in hertz. “Activating life support... removing shield.”

The shiny metal parted and reversed back from where it had come from revealing a humanoid, somewhere in their late twenties.

“Perfect.” The scientist spoke the word in reverent awe.

“Not exactly, well,” Lestrade made a face. “Bit... puny... isn’t he?”

The delicate arch of the long feet gave way to the perfectly formed ankles and calves that even in rest looked solid, albeit wiry. Their thighs rose gently, the curvature of the muscle looked as if it were just waiting to be put to use, terminating at sharp angled hips. Nestled between, _his_ hooded cock was thick even relaxed. It lay softly over his testicles, the curled thatch of crimson to ebon hair wasn’t even remarkable next to such a specimen. Beautiful. There was not another word capable of describing him. Supple clear skin, uninterrupted in its perfection. 

“He’s quite... exceptional, sir.”


End file.
